


Parachute

by starmist



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Gen, Self Loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 16:04:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2315366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starmist/pseuds/starmist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke muses about Bellamy's seeming self loathing issues. Set kind of after Day Trip.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parachute

**Author's Note:**

> Soo I asked people on tumblr to send me song lyrics for Bellarke fics. Someone (uninviting-b) sent me 'Parachute' by Cheryl Cole. It's not a song I've listened to before, so looked up the lyrics for inspiration. The lyrics that inspired this were "don't believe the things you tell yourself late at night / you are your own worst enemy". I have been writing and editing this for like two weeks on the train to and from work and omg. I don't know how professional writers do it?!

_Don't believe the things you tell yourself late at night / you are your own worst enemy_

\--

Clarke knew Bellamy was aware of the difference between right and wrong, but he had spent a lot of his life hopping between the two. Trying to maintain some sort of moral compass whilst spending your days as a guard (locking people away for minor infractions) and your nights as a doting big brother (reading history books to your little sister under the floor) must have taken quite a toll.

She had seen a glimpse of the weight he carried that night Dax had tried to kill him. His mother, the people culled on the Ark, the members of The 100 killed by Grounders in their first few weeks - just filled checkboxes in his mental list of unforgivable crimes. Worse still, he had truly believed Octavia hated him and was so convinced he was willing to leave her without his protection - something he had given freely since the moment she was born.

Clarke could only imagine the things he told himself at night, cruel whispers of half-forgotten crimes validating every accusation spat at him. Sometimes she thought she would break, crumble under the weight of the responsibility she had taken on. It was hard to be in charge, it was hard to decide who should live and die - and that's what it came down to. Clarke knew Bellamy took the hard decisions worse than her, even if he'd die before admitting it. She had let Lincoln be tortured, encouraged it even. But Bellamy was the one who drew first blood. He blamed himself for every injury, every death, like he was absorbing all the moral ambiguity of their co-leadership so she didn't have to. The court food taster poisoned instead of the princess.

All her life she had known survival and pragmatism. The Ark would float it's citizens into suffocating space for the smallest of misdemeanours. The Council couldn't afford to be anything but ruthless, when water, food, and oxygen were all on their way out. Clarke had been taught to prioritise the survival of the many over the few. It was only since her father had been killed she start to question how that type of survival was achieved. It was easy to side with the many if you weren't part of the few.

Bellamy was the opposite. He had chosen Octavia and his mother at every turning point. He had gone without food so Octavia didn't have to, lied to everyone around him, putting a wall up between himself and the rest of The Ark. He had very nearly killed Chancellor Jaha so he could be with Octavia again. Some might call it selfish, in fact many already had. But survival is all about selfishness.

When it came down to it, Clarke knew that Bellamy would ride through the gates of hell and back for the people he loved. It was the choice her mother hadn't made and the one she wished she had. She had never known someone who would put the future of the entire human race at risk before doing the same for a single individual.

She admired that.

She admired him.

Which is why it had been so easy for forgiveness to roll off her tongue, to offer the salvation he so clearly needed to hear. She would offer it in return for his partnership in running the camp, in looking after the rest of the delinquents. It was an easy trade.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is my first fic in years, so I'm a little rusty.


End file.
